


The Long Haul

by drinkingstars



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst and Porn, Baked Goods, Barebacking, Comeplay, Creampie, Established Relationship, Filth and Feelings, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sex Talk, Vulnerability, i mean obviously, very minor medical tests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19756729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkingstars/pseuds/drinkingstars
Summary: Can we have pie while we talk?





	The Long Haul

**Author's Note:**

> set some time between Rock On and The Hike, I guess? it's Schitt's Creek, time is irrelevant. thank you to everyone in the discord who cheered me, and this, on.

The first time they don’t talk about it, they’re going at it pretty hard and heavy on a Friday night, and David has had his tongue and now a few fingers in Patrick’s ass and Patrick is a begging, needy mess waiting to get fucked. David finally stops kissing Patrick long enough to reach across the bed for the bedside table.

“Don’t you move. I’m not done with you,” David says, controlling and toppy like he gets sometimes and Patrick fucking _loves_ that. David grabs for the drawer knob and shakes it loose so he can rummage inside.

“Where’m I gonna go, you’ve got your whole hand in my ass?” Patrick sasses him back a little, grinding up and down on David’s fingers and craning his neck around to see what’s taking David so long.

David looks back at Patrick long enough to give him a sarcastic smirk and tease him. “It’s hardly my whole hand...you’re not ready for that, trust me.”

Patrick rolls his eyes, because David is forever saying things like that, no matter how much sex they’ve had, like there are still all these other frontiers Patrick can’t even imagine. Mostly to do with his ass.

“Mmmkay can you just...get over here and give me that dick, then? We both know I can take _that_ at least.” Patrick whines, shifts his hips around on David’s fingers to drive the point home. He’s not above begging. This is what David does to him, how he knows David is the only one he ever needs. He’s never been happier.

David pulls the whole drawer out in frustration and watches it land upside down on the floor. “Well, fuck.” 

“Yes, exactly!” Patrick says, giddy. David turns back to him, crestfallen. 

“Um. We can’t. We must have used the last two condoms the other night. I’m so sorry, babe. But I’m gonna get you off so good, just let me…” David starts to shift himself around, curls his fingers inside Patrick for emphasis. “There are so many other things you know I can do for you.”

Patrick throws his head back in frustration, then sits up and reaches to take David’s face in his hand. He trails his fingers under David’s jaw and looks at him, pleadingly. “David I love you so much. Can’t we just...I’m not worried about it, can you just fuck me? Please David, I want to feel you, I love you, I know we’re both safe, just…” The way Patrick’s voice faintly trails off and the look on his face tell David that Patrick already knows the answer. David presses his free hand to Patrick’s chest and eases him down, kisses him deeply while twisting his fingers up against the spot he knows will reduce Patrick to a babbling mess in a matter of seconds.

“You know what I’m going to say,” David says, biting down hard on Patrick’s collarbone while fucking him with his fingers.

“I do...don’t lecture me. Just fuck me, David.” Patrick’s face is so open, so trusting and vulnerable, David almost, almost considers it. 

Instead he kisses the air out of Patrick again, then takes a deep, steadying breath on his way down Patrick’s body so he can engulf him in his mouth. Patrick comes with a rough, throaty yell just a few moments later.

*

The conversations they need to have...make David very nervous. 

He has lived in Schitt’s Creek for four years. He has only slept with two men, one woman, and one Patrick in that time. He hasn’t had the regular private testing and concierge medical care that he once enjoyed in New York, but he has no logical reason to believe he’s anything but disease free. 

It’s just ingrained in him, somewhere in his queer DNA, like the Stonewall Inn and Keith Haring and disco divas who died before he was even born and black leather that never goes out of season, that he isn’t supposed to do this without condoms. He _has_ , but he shouldn't have, and he knows it. He knows how many times he got lucky. He’s a different person who makes better decisions now, and with Patrick, he needs to be the best version of himself he can. 

He trusts Patrick implicitly, and he trusts Patrick to handle the conversation with calm maturity and grace. He isn’t sure he trusts himself to do the same. 

He buys more condoms the next time he’s in town, and makes sure to have one in his pocket, ready to hand to Patrick in the heat of the moment. 

Patrick doesn’t seem to give it a thought as he tears it open, rolls it on himself, and fucks David into the sofa while their dinner gets cold.

*

The second time they don’t talk about it is one night when Patrick is on top and finds _some_ new spot inside him that makes him finally lose his filth filter and screams, “fuck me, fuck me, fill my ass up with your come,” and well, that’s just hot. 

David groans, “oh my fucking god,” pulls Patrick’s hips down on him, hard, and unloads into the condom. Patrick stays up there while David finishes him off, Patrick’s come landing on their bellies and chests. David draws a finger through it, tracing a pattern in the pearly white swirls on their skin until he looks up in his daze and sees Patrick, watching him, inscrutable. 

“What?” David asks, cocking his head dramatically and plopping one of his come-streaked fingers into his mouth, sucking on it blissfully as his eyes start to drift closed. He’s going to sleep _so_ well tonight.

“Nothing. I love you. You’re just…” Patrick trails off again, not sure what word he was looking for. David looks up at him challengingly, and with the right phrase not coming to him, Patrick dips his finger into his own orgasm and brings it to his mouth, swipes it over his own tongue. “We’re kind of dirty. I love being dirty with you.” Patrick fucking _blushes_.

David sits up, smiling giddily, and kisses him, licks a bit of come from his lips. 

He’s thinking about what Patrick said in the back of his mind as he drifts off to sleep later that night.

*

The time they actually do talk about it, is because of Alexis. David gave up his old online accounts and fake instagram friends years ago, but he knows that in the depths of insomnia or nostalgia, Alexis will sometimes go down a rabbit hole. She brings him tidbits from time to time, news of names he barely recognizes doing things at places he’d rather not remember. He usually shrugs, says “huh,” and goes on about his day.

She looks up from her phone one day over a plate of loganberry pancakes they’re sharing at the cafe, and says, “oooh, David. Remember Arturo de la Corpas? Wasn’t he your model for a while?”

She flips her phone around to show David, and there’s a face David does remember, attached to a body he _definitely_ does. He’s doing some kind of genderqueer fantasy makeup campaign and he looks amazing. On his cheeks and nipples are glittery **+** signs, and his caption reads: _know ur status, hoes! undetectable=untransmittable, thank you Glitterpuss for letting me represent ¡mi gente!_

“He was such a cutie, David. Didn’t you guys used to--” she starts to make a very inelegant gesture that past Alexis would never. She’s been with Ted _way_ too long.

David knocks her hands away to stop her from completing the finger thing, and flashes his teeth at her. “Please. And yes, we did, thank you. That was...a long time ago. Huh.” David passes her her phone back. He furrows his brows and runs through various math problems and timelines in his head while Alexis keeps chattering.

“Love this makeup job they did on him. This company is using social advocacy to build brand affinity, David, a very powerful marketing tool with millennials,” Alexis says, flipping her hair and picking up her fork to go for more pancakes. David can’t help his tiny half smile of pride.

*

When Patrick gets home, David is waiting at his tiny dining room table with a loganberry (they’re in season and they’re in _everything_ ) pie from the bakery, a perfectly paired wheat beer with a hint of citrus and coriander, and a website open to various health clinics within an hour’s drive.

“I’m ready to talk about this if you are,” David begins, putting on his bravest face. Patrick looks at the screen, nods slowly, and takes David’s face in his hands to kiss him. David starts crying almost immediately.

“Ok David. Ok. Hey. Whatever you’re most scared of…I am not scared. I’m right here.”

David nods and pulls Patrick to him, hides his face on his shoulder while Patrick rubs circles gently on his back. 

“Can we have pie while we talk?” David sniffles. 

Patrick opens a beer for himself and makes David a cup of spicy herbal tea while David starts to talk, and eat. 

“I’ve had friends who were positive. I’ve had lovers who were positive. In the art world, it wasn’t uncommon, even in this day and age. I didn’t have, you know, tons of friends getting sick and dying, but my parents did. When you grow up Moira Rose’s queer son and you’re a precocious kid who wants to run around with actors and dancers...you get an earful, believe me.”

“I’m sure,” Patrick says with his sheepish but always sweet _my childhood was very different but I’m trying to understand_ grin, taking a sip of beer. 

“And a gorgeous, monogrammed, black lacquered box of condoms after your bar mitzvah,” David adds and takes a big bite of pie. “It’s just kind of hardwired in my brain, like my anxiety, or the annoying things I do to try to keep people at a distance.”

Patrick shakes his head, taking offense at that. “You aren’t annoying, David. You used to have a lot of defenses up, it’s true. But you’ve said yourself you worked on letting those down.”

“I have. And I’m glad, I’m glad every day that you somehow got through them. I’m working on unlearning a lot of things. If you are sure...if you know you want...fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.” He stalls and eats another bite of pie. 

“I’m in this, David. I hope you know that by now. I’m in for the long haul,” Patrick says, looking serious, determined. 

“I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret in two years, or five years, just for a fuck,” David says a bit too flippantly. 

Patrick drops his fork on the table and cradles David’s face in his hands again. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts me when you talk about yourself like that? David. Come on.” Patrick kisses him again, slow and deep until David curls his hands in the cuffs of his sweater around Patrick’s wrists. 

“I said I’m working on it. Didn’t say I’m perfect at it yet,” David says through tears and the heat of Patrick’s lips against his. 

“I know. And I love you. I don’t care about the fucking. I mean don’t get me wrong, it is amazing. But I care about the intimacy. I care about us having no secrets or hidden fears between us, keeping us apart. What are you most afraid of?”

“That I’m damaged goods for you. That I can’t give you that.” 

Patrick’s face crumples. “David, you will never, ever be damaged goods to me. If we took a test tomorrow and I tested positive, would that change how you feel about me?”

“Ok, that’s very sweet but we both know you’ve slept with like two girls and you were both of their first,” David says with a wry smile, a blatant attempt to back off the seriousness of the moment. 

“Not the point and you know it. Also, incorrect. Answer the question. If I tested positive tomorrow would it change anything for you.” 

David takes a gulp of his warm tea and touches his handful of silver rings to his mouth to center himself. He looks at Patrick and shakes his head furiously. “Nnn hnn. No, absolutely nothing. I love you.”

“And I love you. Why do you think it would be any different for me, if it were you?”

David just keeps shaking his head, tears welling up again. Patrick slides his whole chair over to get closer to him, puts his arm around David and pulls him close. “Come on,” he says, reaching to drag the laptop closer to the edge of the table so they can look at it together. “Show me what you’ve found.”

*

They wind up going to a nice, quiet walk-in clinic in Elmcrest. Patrick figures whatever happens he can finally introduce David to the frankly _amazing_ barbecue and sushi place when they’re done. 

The nurse won’t take their health histories and vitals together in the same room, which is honestly a relief for David. He still cringes his way through _many_ of the personal history questions but tries to be as honest and accurate as he can account for. He imagines the answers to similar questions being asked of Patrick next door, and tries not to shame spiral. His life has been his life, and he is here now. He breathes through it.

The nurse lets Patrick come in before she pricks David’s finger. It’s quick and easy, and then they swap seats and she changes gloves, opens a new test kit, and does Patrick’s test too. He doesn’t flinch, and never takes his eyes off David. 

They sit in the waiting room with matching purple band-aids on the tips of their ring fingers, holding hands and staring into the large, bubbling fish tank. 

The nurse and a lab tech come out in about twenty minutes and tell them they can come on back, together. 

Patrick reaches for David as they stand up, pulls his head down close for a kiss. “We’re going to be fine.”

David takes a breath and holds his head up high. “I know.”

*

David reaches for another piece of Hawaiian barbecue pork roll, scooping up the grilled pineapple that has fallen out of the other end to stack on his bite. “This should not be this good,” he says, dragging it through his little dish of teriyaki sauce with his chopsticks. 

“I told you,” Patrick grins, squeezing lime juice all over his barbecue salmon roll draped with avocado. David chews and looks thoughtfully at Patrick, amazed at how he can feel so utterly in love and also so totally different than he did a few hours ago. Nothing has changed, but also everything has. 

“We should’ve done this sooner. I’m sorry for not being more...proactive, whatever,” David says, looking wistfully at Patrick and his salmon roll. 

Patrick slides two pieces of his over and picks up one of David’s pork, covers it in extra cabbage slaw. “I have just as much responsibility for my health and how we care for each other as you, David. Everything about...that stuff,” Patrick says and David has to grin, he loves this man who’s talking about their HIV tests over sushi but can’t say _sex_ in a restaurant, apparently, so much. “Doesn’t all have to be on you just because you’re, like, worldly and have done...everything. Or you like to think you have.” Patrick grins at him and narrows his eyes a little suggestively and David quirks his lip. 

“I guess...a few things may have just opened up on the list. I’ll have to check my availability and get back to you.”

Patrick smiles, sweet and earnest and no longer teasing. “Take your time.”

*

It takes exactly eleven days, as it turns out, until an early evening when Patrick gets bored with the baseball game David is indulgently letting him watch and David starts something more interesting. 

David secretly loves distracting Patrick while baseball, or hockey, or fucking _curling_ is on. It makes him feel sexy, and decadent, to give Patrick a wicked, fully clothed blow job in the midst of such a mundane televised sporting event. Sometimes Patrick doesn’t take his eyes off the game, just clutches the back of David’s head and encourages him softly with the pads of his fingers, giving his own commentary and talking trash to the players and referees the whole time until he’s _just_ about to come, and then gives David the full attention he and his mouth deserve for their service. 

David knows that probably doesn’t say anything great about _him_ that he likes being gently used like that, but it makes him shiver with pleasure every time.

This game isn’t enough to hold even Patrick’s partial interest though, and he’s soon thrusting up from his hips and making desperate, wanting sounds. He finally takes himself in his hand and gently eases his cock out of David’s mouth, leaving him pouting and wiping a little saliva from his chin. Patrick levels a heavy, heated look at him and David can see that a baseball blow job is the last thing on his mind right now.

“Care to follow me to the bedroom?” David asks, felicitously, and Patrick leans in with his hand still holding his hard cock and kisses David, wet and deep and promising.

“Get your ass in there. I’m right behind you,” Patrick says, grabbing a palmful of David’s glute muscles as he propels himself up off the couch. 

David can’t get in there fast enough.

Patrick tosses him some lube and David works himself open roughly. Patrick watches intently, his hand slowly, loosely stroking, sliding his foreskin up and down over his shaft, which David knows he loves the feel of. David groans as he sinks himself down on two fingers, and he’s more than ready when Patrick grabs him by the ankle and helps pull him where he wants him. 

“You want this? You want my big cock in you babe? Bet you can’t wait to see how it feels. Just me in you, yeah…” Patrick mutters as David gets up closer to him, wraps his long legs under himself. 

Patrick may have permanently lost his filth filter. David isn’t mad about it.

David leans in and kisses him, circles his arms around Patrick’s neck as he climbs into Patrick’s lap. “You’re ready for this, yeah?” Patrick asks, always sweet and earnest when it gets right down to it, even if he tries a little bad boy character sometimes. 

David nods, a little excited and a little nervous, and says “yeah, I want it. Give it to me,” as Patrick holds himself taut and David sinks himself down over his cock. 

The flush of heat when the thick head of Patrick’s cock first stretches him open feels warmer, and stickier. He has to go kind of slow at first, adjusting to the feeling of Patrick’s flesh, to the humid drag of them together. Patrick bites his lip while he waits for David to acclimate, and then they’re just slick skin, sliding and pushing thickly against each other, David working a little harder than usual with his thigh muscles to control the depth, Patrick grunting and digging his fingers into David’s ass every time he moves. 

He finally gets him all in, and Patrick lets out a rough, pained growl of air, has to lay his head on David’s shoulder for a moment.

“Are you ok? Do I feel good?” David asks, a little concerned and gingerly tilting his hips back and forth on Patrick’s cock. Patrick grabs his ass to still him, nods silently into his neck and collarbone.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “You...yes, you do. You feel amazing. If you move, I’m gonna come.”

“Oh...oh fuck, but, Patrick I _need_ to move.” David carefully begins a motion up and down, and Patrick slides his hand under David to clench down on the base of his cock and try to hold it together, but when David’s path up to the tip of his cock ends and he starts to sink back down, Patrick just loses it. 

He grabs David by the hips and fucks up into him, hitting him perfectly two, three times, but it won’t be enough to get David there and Patrick yells as he comes, David holding on around Patrick’s neck and just riding it out.

“Oh my god...oh my god…David, I…” Patrick can’t seem to catch his breath and David...kind of feels like he’s sinking. He’s in an awkward position now and he can feel Patrick inside him and he knows if Patrick pulls out now it will be a disastrous mess...his brain is defeating his hard-on and he hates it, doesn’t want to ruin this for Patrick.

“Can you, like...yeah, roll me this way, ok,” David urges them sort of sideways, trusting momentum and physics, god help them, to get him onto his side so Patrick can slip out of him. He can feel Patrick’s come moving inside him and threatening to escape. It makes him want to clench down and that makes him grit his teeth. He’s tense, and he doesn’t want to be tense, he wants to be getting thoroughly railed by his hot boyfriend that he loves so much he just let come inside him.

Patrick rubs his hands up David’s thigh and hip, and David feels him lowering himself down on the bed and he knows what’s coming.

“Can I look...David, is this ok?” David feels Patrick’s fingers at his cheeks, tentatively, oh so gently pulling them apart, one fingertip deftly seeking out his hole. He feels it trace wetly around his rim, and sighs into his arm.

“Mmmm hmmm,” David vocalizes, his face half hidden in the pillow. He loves Patrick, of course he wants him to see, if this is a thrill that he wants, let him have it. Let him look at David’s come-filled asshole and feel triumphant. It’s already inside him so what’s the diff--

“Hey, David, come back to me. Do you not like it?” Patrick cuts him off mid-spiral, and David tries another approach.

“Is it...hot? Does it look hot? Down there?” David manages to ask, still grinding his teeth and half-covering his eyes because he’d just rather not be looked at. 

“No, sweetheart, you look terribly uncomfortable and freaked out and that’s not hot to me, _ever_. Are you...oh god, I’m sorry.” Patrick is spooning up behind him and stroking his hand up and down David’s arm, so so softly over the curve of his ass, David’s muscles contracted and tight. Patrick finally wraps an arm across David’s chest and kisses him between the shoulder blades as he gently, carefully tries to pry him up from the bed. “David, come on. Let’s get you in the shower.”

*

Once the shameful, awkward shuffle to the bathroom is behind him and his feet are on the floor of the shower, David relaxes again. The hot water is therapeutic on his tense, tired muscles, and Patrick lavishes him with attention, scrubbing his back and massaging his shoulders.

David smiles at him through wet, heavy eyelashes and says, carefully, “hey, I’m ok now. Sorry that was...not what you probably hoped.”

“David, I…” Patrick just stops talking and kisses him, warm water over both their faces and down their chests, and David steps in closer so Patrick can feel that he’s hard again, brushes it against his stomach.

“It’s _fine_ , Patrick. We don’t need to go to therapy over it, I just don’t like it. I _do_ still need to get off, though.”

“Oh, I’m gonna get you off babe, don’t worry about that,” Patrick says, pressing David against the wet tile and closing his soapy hand around him.

“You can...if you want to feel...back there. You can, now.” David says, gnawing nervously on Patrick’s shoulder as he even suggests it.

“It’s not...you’re not too sensitive?” Patrick asks, and David has to laugh, softly, into Patrick’s wet skin.

“I mean obviously I’m too sensitive, I think we’ve established that many times, including just now in bed.”

“David if you don’t like it why did you let me do it?”

David squirms in Patrick’s slippery arms, tries to rut his dick up into Patrick’s closed hand. “Don’t you want to talk about this later? Like after I get to come?”

“Yeah, yeah David. I love you. Come on. Do you really want me to finger you?” Patrick asks, sinks a little lower and wedges himself against the wall so he can do both when David nods, yes.

Patrick’s fingers slip inside him and David groans, rides his hand a little as Patrick jerks him off with his other hand. “Can you feel it? There’s still some in there.” David lets his head knock softly against the tile wall as Patrick curls his fingers up inside him and strokes them down, pushing his come out and into the stream of water, rushing it away.

*

“I thought it would be different because it was _you_ ,” David finally confesses, sated and showered and tucked up on the couch with a big bowl of pasta between them. “Everything else with you...is amazing. Even if I had...a bad experience before,” David tries to explain, without going into too much detail and ruining their dinner appetite.

Patrick reaches out with his foot and rubs it along David’s thigh, soothingly. “If you don’t like it we never have to do it. I honestly didn’t love it? I mean I liked it, don’t get me wrong. There was just...a lot of pulling? I didn’t expect?”

David nods. “S’cause you have a foreskin. I don’t.” David explains around a mouthful of spaghetti, a long strand of pasta hanging mid-slurp from his bowl up to his lips. 

“Wow. Thanks for that...teachable moment.” Patrick says, wiping his eyes like they’re watering from trying not to laugh. David just shrugs and twirls his fork back in. “Anyway. The pulling kinda hurt and then I came in like five seconds. So yeah, we can. File that one away, if you want to.”

“You don’t think there’s something wrong with me?” 

“Because you have an aversion to one particular sex act or physical sensation? No, unless you think there’s like, trauma attached to it or something more serious. And then we would need to work through that together. I hope it’s not that?”

David puts his bowl down and looks at Patrick, a pouty grimace turning his mouth down at the corners. “Why are you like this?” David says. 

Patrick shakes his head, quizzically. “Like what?” 

“Like...just, caring and decent and reasonable and you just said you’d...go to therapy with me? Like what am I supposed to do with that kind of...with you? What do I do with that?”

Patrick laughs, that same sheepish half-grin that David knows means he’s trying. “I don’t know, David. Been thinking about that a lot lately myself. Just love me back, I guess.”

David nods, stabs his fork back into his bowl of pasta. “I can do that.”

*

The next time they fuck, David is an engaged man, with four golden rings on his fingers to prove it.

They go back home ( _our_ home, David thinks dreamily as he stares out the car window, like it’s any different from going back to Patrick’s tiny apartment any other time) and drop their backpacks on the floor, Patrick bringing the rest of the bottle of champagne for good measure as David drags him to the bedroom. Patrick has big, stupid hiking boots on and they both smell a little outdoorsy from sweating in nature and David absolutely could not care less. 

He strips everything off Patrick, pausing with his ankle in his hand to carefully inspect his foot, just in case, pressing a kiss to the arch of it as he declares it uninjured and places it down on the bed. They each take a swig from the champagne bottle and then David is all over him, running his hands all over Patrick as Patrick wrestles to get David out of his clothes.

David goes down on him, reaching up to roughly shove a few fingers into Patrick’s mouth while he gets Patrick as turned on as he already feels. When his fingers are wet he pulls them out, Patrick griping noisily in disappointment as he loses them but quickly changing his tune when David presses them to his entrance.

“Want to fuck you. Want to fuck my _fiancé_ ,” David practically purrs, kissing and sucking gently around Patrick’s cock as he works his wet fingers inside him. Patrick groans and flails around on the bedside table for some lube and throws it in David’s vicinity, lifting his hips up to give David better access.

David pours a little in his hand and slicks it over his cock, wanting just enough to ease his way into Patrick but not a big slippery mess.

He grabs Patrick by the hips with his other hand, only pausing the _briefest_ of moments to admire the shiny flashes of gold on his fingers as they grip Patrick’s pale skin. He lifts Patrick’s hips up to his and holds his cock ready, just checking in and making sure, Patrick looking up at him and biting his lip. “Yeah, David, come on,” all he can get out and David does it, pushes himself in. 

Just the head at first and then David stops to breathe because _oh my god_. 

Every nerve is singing at him and he can feel Patrick enveloping him, the skin and the stickiness, the exquisite friction of drag as he pushes in further with no latex between them and he kind of feels like a giant asshole hypocrite because he _loves_ this. 

He moves inside him and it’s all Patrick and it’s perfect perfect perfect. He thrusts and listens to Patrick’s whines for more, lifts his head in a daze and finds Patrick’s mouth, kisses him lopsidedly with bad angles because he feels so fucking good. 

Patrick gasps and pulls David in, lifts his knees and rocks his hips up to get him even deeper and David’s going to fucking explode, softly chanting, “oh my god, Patrick, oh my god,” as he fucks into him.

Patrick frantically works a hand in between them and tries to get it around his own dick, but David is already almost there, straining and pushing Patrick’s thighs apart, getting all the way into him and Patrick hardly gets to touch himself, just takes David as he comes apart and yells for him again, meaning it this time, “fuck me, yeah babe, fill me up with your come,” and David bites the closest thing he can, the inside of Patrick’s knee, and comes in a hot rush, deep, deep inside him.

David collapses on top of him, messy kissing and nonsense words all he has for a few moments until he can gather himself. He needs to pull out and desperately, desperately doesn’t want it to be unpleasant for Patrick. “I love you. I love you so much. You’re amazing,” David babbles, almost pre-apologizing.

Patrick shakes his head softly and kisses him, grabbing the nearest pillow. “It’s ok. I’m good. That was…” He lifts his hips again as David starts to ease himself out and gracefully shoves the pillow underneath him to keep himself propped up. David doesn’t understand at first, carefully drawing his mostly soft cock out of him, but then Patrick is propped up, and Patrick is spreading his thighs and laying back into the pillows. 

Patrick is stroking his hard cock and looking like something out of a god damn dream, so good David’s never even dreamt it. Patrick wants him to _look_ at him.

David takes a breath, swallows hard, and leans in. “You liked it? You like having it in you?” David asks, kissing the inside of his knee and gently nudging his cheeks even further apart to see, the quivering white, the results of his efforts, just inside Patrick’s stretched hole. “Fuck, babe. Oh fuck fuck fuck,” David says, his eyes lighting up as he leans in closer.

“I love it, I love the way you’re looking at me...fuck David, touch, touch me,” and David does, dipping his fingers into Patrick and drawing back fingertips covered in his come. He laps at them, shows Patrick how good this is for him, then thinks better of it. He dips his fingers inside again and brings the two of them, dripping with his come, to Patrick’s mouth and pushes it between his lips. Patrick moans and sputters the word _fuck_ around David’s fingers, moves his hand even faster on his cock.

“You look like…” David begins to even try to explain, leaning over Patrick to lick into his mouth around his own fingers as Patrick jerks himself, then moves his hands and attention back down to Patrick’s ass. 

“I’ve never seen porn that looks as good as you. I’ve never seen anything...I mean can you see you? Look, Patrick,” David says, pushes two fingers all the way into Patrick so that his come oozes out around them, runs down his hand and onto the bed and Patrick cranes his neck up to look but he can’t even speak. So David keeps talking.

“You are the hottest thing I have ever seen. In my entire fucking life,” David says, fucking his fingers in and out of Patrick, the satisfying sounds of his own come inside Patrick, the sight of Patrick’s hand in a whirr over his cock, making his own soft cock twitch, optimistically. 

“I wish I could get hard again, like I _really_ wish. I don’t even know what I’d do but you’re so hot I wish I could,” David says, dropping between Patrick’s thighs to lick and suck what’s left of his come out of his fiancé, Patrick grabbing desperately at his head, his hair and face and mouth and yelling, “David, David oh my god, I fucking love you,” as he finally, finally comes. David moves just in time to catch some of it on his tongue, in his open mouth, licking up all of it that he can as Patrick writhes and whimpers and tells David he loves him, over and over.

David shakes his head in disbelief, because only he gets this, and he’s going to marry this man. He licks a spot of someone’s come off of one of his golden rings and stretches out on top of Patrick to kiss him some more.

*

“That was…” Patrick’s chest is still flushed from the neck down and he’s having trouble putting words together.

“Yeah. That was fucking dirty,” David agrees and supplies one of the many, many evocative words he could think of to describe what they just did.

“You really liked that,” Patrick says, digging his knuckles into David’s ribs under the sheets and David just breathes out a sarcastic little huff of a laugh.

“Uh, yeah, so did you. I can’t believe I’m marrying a perfectly respectable looking businessman like you who turns out to be a huge comeslut.”

“Ummm, I think you’re the comeslut. I’m the innocent young carpenter’s apprentice who’s never taken a hot load before,” Patrick recites in his blandest, most deadpan voice that gets David every time.

David leans back to look at him and twists his mouth in a teasing grin. “Ok I thought you said you _didn’t_ look at that website I sent you.”

“I thought it was a DIY house renovation site. Oops.” Patrick kisses David’s chin, lays his head on David’s soft, broad chest.

“I’m glad you like it. That’s...fun. And we don’t have to do it the other way, but that’s ok, right?” David asks, just to clarify. He’s no longer anxious about it, and he knows Patrick only cares about what makes him feel good, and safe.

“Of course, of course. I love you. Wait, does this make me gayer than you though?” Patrick suddenly chirps him and David touches his chest like he’s processing this.

“Because you like _taking a hot load_? No, that’s not how that works. Besides, I think you were already gayer than me. Since I’m not technically gay in the strictest dictionary sense.” David says, feeling drowsy but he always loves their silly after-sex banter, snuggling and gently sparring with his quick, funny fiancé.

“Yes, yes, your sexuality is indefinable and magical, you’re a goddamn unicorn. We’ve both had sex with women, though,” Patrick says, a practical argument, just balancing the books like he always does.

“Yeah but I’m actually good at it,” David shoots back and smirks at the ceiling because he’s definitely won this round. Patrick gay gasps and clutches at his chest, wounded.

“Good thing I’m marrying you then,” Patrick says when he recovers and settles again, burrowing back into David’s chest.

David clutches him close, curls his fingers around his biceps and kisses the top of his head. He never knew to dream of this. He couldn’t even have imagined it if he tried. “Yep. It is a very good thing.”


End file.
